


Warped

by calcium_rods



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Some angst, im sorry scar, most of the hermits will be there at some point, there is a very very tiny chance i will ever touch this again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26538322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcium_rods/pseuds/calcium_rods
Summary: A world exists in the void. Sometimes players go to this world, slipping out of reality. It's more dangerous than you may think.NOTE: This has basically been discontinued.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. Falling, Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Players had legends and stories to pass around, as every other living creature did. Most were joyful or silly, giving them something happy to speak about as they hopped from world to world, finding new creatures in every one.
> 
> One was the legend of a place with no warmth, a place where all the creatures were hostile. There were only rumors of people getting there-- whether they fell into the Void or only slipped out of reality. It was hard to get back from the place if you fell into the void, as it was covered by a thick layer of bedrock. Some Players tried to get there however they could, but it was rare to fall, even rarer to get there.
> 
> There were twenty four Players in this world. Some would come and go, leaving to test things, but most stayed. The world was called Hermitia. It had a mushroom island surrounded by a collection of biomes, ranging from snowy mountains scraping the heavens to flat deserts spilling into the sea. 
> 
> One of the Players knew how to break bedrock-- but that was only one example of the Players’ talents. Others could build anything after one thought, twist redstone to work with any command, convince others to do deeds for them, or even change form depending on what creature they felt like.
> 
> The talents of the Players, however, would push them further into the warped overworld. If they were to let their thoughts drift while working, they might find themselves not at home

Tango watched as another hermit approached. He brushed his wavy blonde hair out of his eyes, smirking. Knowing him, Tango would be thrust into some experiment, acting as a guinea pig for his friend. Afterwards he would respawn at home, and Zedaph would be satisfied with whatever results he got.

“Hey, Tango!” Zedaph called. Tango nodded to acknowledge him, waiting for the other hermit to explain the contraption. This time it was a horde of zombies falling onto unwanted guests. Zedaph led Tango back to the hole, standing on a block. Tango pretended as if he didn’t know what was going on, running from the zombies as they fell. The zombies were half his height and the size of a small child, but he respected Zed’s dedication to getting them in the right spot. 

As they chased him, Tango looked at the hole to the void. He ran that way, trying to shake them off of his tail, but then he stepped on a stone button, heard a trapdoor open, and then he fell.

Tango held his breath, awaiting the damage that would meet him when he hit the void. He fell for a minute, leaving the stone pit. The void, however, never seemed to hurt him. Tango hit the ground, looking around. Everything was desaturated and cold, a strange light coming from several multicolored berry bushes. Stars that ranged from green to violet glimmered in the sky, casting an eerie glow where the bushes didn’t reach.

“Where… am I? This doesn’t look like the end, definitely not the nether or the overworld,” Tango muttered, brushing himself off. There was a village up ahead, and he began to walk towards it. “maybe this is one of Grian’s tricks. Maybe Zed meant to send me here, or he worked with Impulse to get me back for something.”

But the village was empty. Plants the color of seafoam covered the structures; thin cobwebs stretched from point to point, bits of leaves caught within. Tango ripped a wall of ivy from a house, pushing the door open with a squeak. Inside, the house looked as if it were abandoned in the middle of dinner-- three plates sat at a small table, a fine layer of dust covering all of them. Several half-melted candles stood in a candelabra, and Tango picked it up. He digged for a flint and steel in his pocket, lighting the wicks. 

The rest of the house was just like the kitchen-- small, dusty, and creepy. Tango checked the drawers and every surface he could find for some clue as to where he was, but every paper he found was written with a language of complex symbols. He flipped through a notebook, hoping he would find something he recognized.

Tango exited the house, looking for somewhere to set up camp. If the village was empty, he didn’t want to see what had made it that way. He settled at the foot of a hill, tying a sheet to several small trees to give him shelter. From the house, he had ‘borrowed’ several sheets, a bit of food, some glassware, and a sweater. As the light faded from just-enough-to-see to pitch black, the chilly temperature fell to frigid. Tango pulled out his axe and chopped down a tree, igniting the logs. He sat next to the campfire, warming his hands. As in the overworld, mobs began to spawn. The hermit heard growls and hisses from the darkness surrounding him, glowing eyes and enchanted weapons accompanying them. Tango began to pull out his sword, heart thumping as one of the mobs inched towards the light.

He stepped forward, looking down at the green form. It was a small creeper, making clicking noises that imitated his fire. Tango nodded, letting it sit in the flames. The creeper smiled, stretching out its scaly legs and laying down.

\--------

Zedaph ushered the zombies into their hole, striding over to where he had last seen his friend. “Tango, buddy, are you down there? This isn’t funny anymore-- Tango, you can come out now,” he pleaded, staring. The void answered with silence.

He paced around, looking back at the hole every so often. After what felt like an eternity of walking, he put his armor in a chest and jumped, hoping to find his friend. Zedaph fell, the void embracing him tightly. He knew his health was dropping, and he opened his eyes to find himself back in his bed. Zed sighed, throwing his armor back on and running to Tango’s base. He searched every tower, farm, and bed, but the red-eyed hermit was missing. 

The last place Tango could possibly be was the shopping district, working on his game Decked Out. Zedaph flew through a portal, eyes darting around the nether. The hermit landed in the nether hub, stepping through the portal in the middle. 

The mushroom island’s chilly air filled his lungs, giving Zedaph hope that maybe his friend was just working with redstone. He entered the cavern, holding his breath as he ran through, searching for Tango. Just as he suspected, the red-eyed hermit was gone.


	2. Mind Wandering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Players rarely left the place once they got there. Unlike the majority of their worlds, the place did not allow respawning. A death there meant they would lie there for eternity; marked by whatever took them. Players who barely resembled their living self and plants had overrun what the few living Players in the place had made. 
> 
> Very little is known about the effects of these, but there were rumors that it left the person who touched them with flowery growths. These were harmless, and some considered them beautiful, but it was a side effect of the plants.

Scar sat on the throne of diamonds, watching as another hermit raced through the shopping district. He pet the cat sitting in his lap, wondering why they were doing that. Perhaps it was Grian, chasing one of his cats who had gotten out, or maybe it was Cleo doing the same. He imagined Impulse needing diamonds, running to check his shop to see if any laid in a chest there.

All the scenarios in his head felt real, but he knew none were. Scar stepped down from the throne, pushing the cat off of his lap. She meowed softly, curling up on the cushion. He smiled at her, climbing down the ladder to see what was going on. As he ran his hand along the worn bricks, a door creaked upstairs. Distracted, the mayor walked up the stairs. 

Joe Hills was face-to-face with Scar, who looked relieved. “Hey, Mr. Good Times,” Joe said, sipping coffee, “what’s up?”

Scar shrugged, “Not much. I was just going to check if the person running around like a headless chicken was causing chaos or not.” He said, gesturing to the door. Joe nodded, holding up one finger and stepping back into his office. He returned with mismatched armor and a sword, saying that he would check it out for himself. Scar thanked him, walking to the balcony.

Light in almost every possible color glowed, illuminating the shopping district. Scar absently drummed his fingers on the railing, leaning against the worn brick wall. His gaze drifted to the black sky, mind imagining more hermits who could be running around. 

Scar blinked, returning to reality. Instead of standing over the shopping district, he was at the top of a hill the color of a vex. He shook his head, looking around. 

“Very funny,” he said, trying to hide the fear in his voice, “really funny. Can one of you admin guys get me back? Xisuma? Tango?” Scar continued to plead, trying to think of all the other hermits who had admin powers. It was no use; he stayed atop the hill, alone and surrounded by the snarls of mobs behind him. The mayor began to walk forward, gradually getting faster. 

Scar observed his surroundings. There was a land covered in nets of flame and black as the sky to his left, more forest to his right, and more of the grey-blue grass up ahead. He walked towards the fire, watching as the flames danced around. The mayor grabbed a branch and waited for a flame to approach, sticking the tip in. The branch caught on fire, providing him with a torch.

Despite the glow of the firelight, few things were lit.  _ Of course, _ Scar thought, shaking his head,  _ it’s all plains out here. Maybe I can find a village or something. _

After what felt like hours of wandering, Scar found a campsite. It was abandoned; the only sign of someone having been there recently was several charred logs. He sat at the edge, noticing a flint and steel on the ground. Scar clicked it, lighting the fire. 

As the smoke rose, a pink sun began to glow at the horizon. Scar wondered if anyone else was looking at the same sun-- Perhaps it was Bdubs, just rising out of bed, or Iskall weaving through the branches of his tree.

“Cleo!” Joe shouted, grabbing the zombie’s shoulders. She made a noise, spinning around. Joe stepped back. Cleo tilted her head, emerald green eyes glistening. 

“What’s wrong?” The zombie asked, frowning. Joe could usually solve things on his own-- he was an admin, after all. He looked sad as he tried to explain how Scar had mysteriously vanished. Cleo had heard about people disappearing without a trace before, but usually it was just going to another world to get away.

She explained what she could, racking her brain. Joe eventually piped up, “but what of the other admins can help us? I’m sure Tango-” Cleo cut him off, shaking her head.

“I haven’t seen him around. I checked his ravager thing, but he wasn’t there. Xisuma can probably help,” Cleo pulled out a paper, scribbling her notes down. She handed it to Joe. “and let’s go now. We’ll have a full day to look for them.”

The duo traveled from the zoo to the nether to the jungle, landing at Xisuma’s base. It was a mass of towers, each one hiding a different farm. The jungle was quiet; the clicks of redstone and whistles of parrots breaking through the silence. Joe flicked his elytra out and flew through the trees, searching for the admin.

Xisuma heard someone land on the sand outside of his castle. He walked over to the balcony, looking down at them. It was Joe Hills, shaking sand from his head. “Joe!” Xisuma called, landing to meet him, “What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

“Scar’s disappeared. We haven’t seen Tango in a while, either. Can you help us find them?” The hermit asked. Xisuma nodded, agreeing to help them find the missing hermits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!


	3. Holding Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were as many Players in the warped overworld as in the regular overworld,and they were scattered across the land in the same way. Some were more human than others-- some even abandoned where they were born and slipped into the overworld.
> 
> Few players would live through an afterlife, and one way to do so was through a ghost. These spirits often wandered aimlessly, some seeking revenge on the entity that killed them, others acting as if they were still alive.

Tango had abandoned his campsite after the creeper blew up. Sure, it was small and just ruined his fire, but he would rather be somewhere he could actually see. His new camp was next to a small pond, filled with glimmering fish. Had they not become aggressive towards him, Tango could have had breakfast. 

He looked at himself in the reflective water, seeing if anything had changed in a day. His eyes were a duller shade than normal, and his hands were bandaged from the encounter with the fish. Tango dragged his fingers over his reflection, warping it. He couldn’t lose hope this fast, not when his friends could be back the next day.

“This is so unlike me,” he whispered, moving back into his tent. “I never act like this. God, Tango, get it together. It’s not like they forgot you existed in a day.”

He searched his inventory to see if anything could help him get back, but all he had was some junk and his tools. Tango put the tools in the box and gathered his things, deciding to shove them in as well.

Scar emptied his pockets, picking up a device only a bit smaller than his hand. Several chat messages were displayed on the screen, the last timestamp being nine hours old. He slid the keyboard out, fingers dancing over the tiny keys. The message was sent, flashing onto the screen below the others. He waited, watching the screen as it flickered to red with an error code.

**[No connection. Please wait a minute then try to resend the message.]**

Scar frowned, knowing that they had to have their communicators with them. He retyped the message, getting the same code. A small voice in the back of his head came forward, telling him that something could have happened to the others, that they could be lost like he was.

“But they can’t be. Grian’s safe, and…” but he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Grian. Knowing him, the hermit had gotten into some chaos and-- he couldn’t bear to think about it. With a whole new dimension under their noses, nothing said that respawning was still enabled. Scar took a breath, putting the communicator back in his pocket, looking at the land around him. 

There was a village behind the tent. He packed it up, leaving a note that apologized to the owner for taking it. Scar walked through it, looking for any sign of life. The village was void of it, wooden houses covered in odd vines. Most were blue-green, but a few were a brighter green or even purple.

_ Maybe I can live there for a bit. Try to contact the others and see if any shops are open. One has got to have an ender chest… wait, no-- Cub isn’t here to enforce that. All I can do is hope, _ he thought, walking the empty streets. Several buildings had flickering firelight, but upon closer inspection, it was just small fruits that appeared to be rotting. Despite the wrinkly sides, the fruits were a bright white, rainbow flecks peeking through. Scar picked one up and smashed it, watching as a watery blue liquid splashed out. 

The mayor continued to investigate the houses, being careful to leave everything as he found it. Despite the only living things there being spiders the size of his head, he didn’t want to disturb them.

The last building before the road led into a forest appeared to be an inn. Scar walked in, looking around. The lobby was much cleaner than the rest of the buildings, and someone stood behind the desk. A dark teal chest sat at the edge, purple wisps fluttering into the air around it. Scar opened it, pulling out several gems.

He put them on the desk, tapping his fingers. Someone grunted and walked over. They had hair that erupted in flames at the tips and amber eyes.

“Hello,” Scar said hesitantly, “I would like a room. How much will it be?”

“An em’rald a night. Twenty diamonds, if you’ve got none of those little gorgeous green gems,” They explained, looking at the amount on the table. Scar pushed them closer, the person checking the amount. They dropped them into a purple bag then shut it, putting a key on the desk. “‘Ere ya go, have a good night, love.”

The hermit nodded, taking the key. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her-- the warm smile, casual way of speaking, hair pulled to cover one eye… It was just a coincidence. Scar shook the thought from his head as he clicked the key into the slot, opening the door.

The room was far from luxury, but it was better than sleeping outside. A single lamp sat in the corner, on a small desk. Scar searched through the room, setting his things up. Under the desk where the lamp was, the particles of an ender chest leaked through. He opened it and pulled out a shulker box of shimmering emeralds, setting half a stack aside.

“Wow, with that many emeralds, you’ve got to be royalty.” A chilling voice stated, making Scar jump. The speaker was a silvery ghost, dressed in a pinstripe suit and chains. Scar muttered something vague about villagers, looking back at the ghost. Once again, something felt familiar about him, but he couldn’t name it...

The ghost kept watching, intriguing Scar. The mayor cleared his throat, looking up to him; “How did you die?”

“Oh, I guess jumping into lava after some diamonds. Don’t remember how, it’s got to be twenty years at this point,” he waved it off, chains rattling, “but that doesn’t matter. Us Players need to stick together if we want to be able to roam around safely.”

“Great. That makes sense, and since you seem to know a lot about this world, what’s it like here? Dangerous? Similar to the overworld?” Scar kept poking questions at the ghost, genuinely curious where he had ended up. 

The ghost answered the first few questions without hesitation, eventually slowing down. His blue form faded to silver, flickering as he thought of an answer to the hermit’s questions. “It’s getting late,” he muttered, “I’ll… see you later. Meet me in the lobby at… I don’t know, noon?”

Scar nodded, waving as the ghost fluttered through one of the walls. He took another glance around the room then fell asleep.


End file.
